“Is this some kind of aircraft?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Seraphia, although not comparable to modern-day Earth, had technology equivalent to the Victorian era. Rudimentary steam engines had become staple machines used by common people in large cities for centuries. Cannons, or more specifically magic cannons, had been used in warfare since ancient times.
But what set Seraphia apart from Earth was the existence of magic. It led to certain technologies developing at an accelerated pace, surpassing Earth by millennia, while others lagged behind. For instance, to explore and chart astral space, ancient Magi often used advanced magic ships capable of destroying small planes. While such ships might not exist today, magic airships such as dirigibles certainly did. After all, the phrase “very, very large” was an understatement when describing the world of Seraphia, where traveling from one place to another could take a whole lifetime or ten.
Players might mistake that Seraphia’s technology was stagnating if they knew about this, but that wasn’t necessarily the case. The technology, or magitech in this case, was evolving in a different direction, and it was quickly regaining the advancements it once had. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before the Magi of this era matched the prowess of their ancestors. Only time could become the witness of this.
Eleanor beamed with pride. “This is our first and latest creation—a magitech-powered glider! We combined steam power with magic runes to enhance its capabilities. It’s designed for both speed and maneuverability, perfect for scouting missions or quick travel.”
“This is incredible, Eleanor. If it works as you describe, the academy will have its own specialized mode of transportation. To think you managed this with the limited materials we have on hand. As expected of a Faulkner, truly an exalted lineage of renowned Artificers,” praised Victor.
“No, no. I don’t dare to take the credit alone.” She waved her hands dismissively. “Strange how those acolytes know more about steam power than I do. They even imagined something more complex than this, like—what did they call it again? Internal combustion engine or something. Not only that, but they also have an insatiable thirst for magical knowledge despite their adeptness in other fields. I’ve asked before, but just where did you find all these people?”
Victor was about to say, “Even if I answered you, you wouldn’t understand…” but he swallowed the words and instead stated, “Let’s just say that I’ve my own sources. Besides, haven’t I told you when you first came here?”
“C’mon, that was a bit too ambiguous. Don’t try to keep it a secret, will ya.” Eleanor nudged Victor’s arm. “I may stay cooped up in this place, but I’m not that ignorant. I know that new acolytes always come out of the building you called ‘Nexus Tower’ to the south of the academy’s main building. It’s basically in plain sight.”
Eleanor was right. People would definitely become suspicious as time went on, and future personnel that might join would ask the same question. Telling Eleanor was fine and all, but he didn’t want this secret to spread. If this information were to fall into the wrong hands, it might jeopardize his entire operation. He needed to be cautious.
“Oh well, if you don’t feel like telling me, forget it,” said Eleanor with a slightly disappointed but understanding tone. Although she looked dissatisfied, she didn’t press on for an answer.
Seeing that, Victor took a few steps closer to the glider and touched it, feeling the smooth, cool surface under his fingers. “You’re right, the Nexus Tower is where they’re conceiv— I mean, brought here. Hrm. All I can tell you is that these people come from a world where there is no magic. So, their civilization developed differently from ours. Their technological advancements compensate for their lack of magical abilities, which is why they have such unique and innovative ideas.”
“I see. That answer is a tad unsatisfying, but it makes a lot of sense now,” Eleanor replied, holding her chin in thought. “Anyway, what is it you need from me?”
“Yes, let’s cut to the chase.” With a wave of his hand, Victor took out a pile of materials he had gained from his interspatial ring and presented them to Eleanor. The materials glistened under the light—a veritable treasure trove of rare and valuable resources.
“Wow! These are all magic minerals!” Eleanor inspected the materials excitedly, like an addict staring at a mountain of crack.
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“What I want you to make is quite simple, actually…” A grin formed on Victor’s lips.
Victor stood before the chalkboard in the grand auditorium, admiring the lines he had written.
Industrial Zone Regulations 1.0
- The area southwest of the academy is designated as an industrial zone.
- New workshops need to submit an application to the headmaster or the assistant fairy, Lizbeth, specifying the innovative concept, business type, estimated area, and proposed location within the approved area.
- Occupying roads, exceeding the planned area, or constructing illegal buildings will result in clearance and removal.
“Good.” Victor nodded in satisfaction.
This was only a draft, so the fewer words, the better. After all, he planned to include more detailed regulations—such as profit splits, management fees, and taxes—directly within the players’ Shadowlink Marks, similar to how he had handled the guidelines. In a sense, it was like hiding the irksome and cumbersome details from plain sight. Plus, it would prevent players from complaining about not reading the regulations because it had too many words.
Most players were already aware that the southwest section of the academy had been designated as an industrial zone, but formalizing it would help avoid disputes. The second one had been mentioned in the development diary, and the regulation against illegal constructions was prompted by the minor chaos he had witnessed during his visit to Eleanor’s workshop.
It was common sense that if the first house was not well-positioned, the subsequent planning would turn chaotic. Even with Victor and Lizbeth’s prior planning, the rapidly increasing number of players made micromanagement progressively difficult, especially in a chaotic place like the industrial area. So, in order to not be driven to death by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, Victor decided to establish these regulations. Although the main reason he did this was that Lizbeth had come to him, exasperated, reporting that numerous life-profession players were bugging her about the possibility of creating workshops after seeing that Auralise had one—it was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.
Victor had admittedly neglected this aspect of his duties because he was too focused on forming his first sigil. As a result, the only workshop that had been approved was Auralise’s, and that was primarily due to her persistent visits to his office, even pinging his Discord account for a free pass. Consequently, there was now a queue of about two hundred life profession players gathered in the grand auditorium after Lizbeth informed them about the new regulations.
“Yes! Finally, I can create my own workshop! Life professions are going to be strengthened! Hooray!”
“Strengthened, my ass. It’s not like you’re getting a buff. This is just a confirmation that you can’t build things randomly in the industrial zone, not that we have been allowed to do that so far. At least now you have the freedom to make the workshop you want as long as your application is accepted and has the necessary personnel.”
“Huh? Is that a nerf or not then?”
“It depends.”
“Does this mean that if I have a groundbreaking idea, I can make my own business? And if it can garner success in the game, I could have an in-game company that generates millions in revenue? All for just a two thousand merit points deposit?”
“Yeah, and the land you’re given is basically free real estate. Just imagine what you can do with all of that!”
“Holy crap, that’s amazing!”
“This isn’t a nerf at all! Life profession players can also make it big with this!”
“It’s so cool!”
The crowd of players gathered and murmured with excitement. It was indeed a great opportunity. Until now, players couldn’t own large facility businesses in the academy and had to work for the academy itself. Of course, they could open up a stall at the recently built market, but each player was strictly provided with a tiny plot of land and had to pay rent each day. But now, the chance to change everything has arrived. However, it wasn’t going to be that simple.
Still, unable to curb their hype, the players surrounded Victor before he could make an announcement.
“Honored Headmaster, is my application form filled out correctly?”
“Sir Astralium, are there any restrictions on the type of business? Can it be anything?”
“I want to set up a carnivorous plant garden!”
“I want to construct a magician power plant!”
“I want to open a mixed bathhouse!”
“I want to sell piss and shit!”
“What the fuck! What’s wrong with you?!”
“...”
There were always players who would say what Victor wanted to, so he stayed silent. Conveniently, most players here were already informed about how to fill out applications, so he didn’t need to explain that oral applications wouldn’t be accepted. The uninformed ones were quickly brought up to speed by the others.
Nevertheless, to maintain order, Victor spread his mana, pressuring the players into silence. He cleared his throat and addressed them in a serious tone:
“If you want to apply to open a workshop, please gather four other personnel and submit your written application to me by your representative in an orderly fashion. You can buy paper at the shop. Please contact my assistant if you have any other questions. For details on writing the application and the rules for the use of the industrial zone, please check your Shadowlink Marks.”
Since there was no paper mill around here, Victor sold whatever was available at the academy. In this case, the only ones in abundance were vellum, which he priced at a steep one hundred merit points to ensure that only serious applicants would apply.
Unfortunately, it seemed that this measure wasn’t sufficient. After seeing that the crowd wasn’t diminishing even a little, a trace of doubt inevitably grew within Victor’s heart.
One hundred merit points for one vellum, which was enough to buy a mana crystal. Sure enough, it was still too cheap…